


A Tale by a Fire

by meanoldauthor



Series: Mean Old Lady [4]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4125687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanoldauthor/pseuds/meanoldauthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A terrible bloody tale, of demons that walk the night</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale by a Fire

Stacy was sitting on the counter, paging through a book she had found. “What’s a kitten?”

“A grown up cat,” Adal said, rummaging through a bin.

“Then what’s a cat?” she asked, looking suspiciously at the book.

“A hellspawn,” she said. “Evil spirit.”

“But this one looks soft and fluffy. It has a mit— mitten.”

“What’s a mitten?” Max leaned over to look, and she showed him. “It’s like a glove that’s just one big finger. That’s dumb. But the cat doesn’t look evil.”

“Show me?” Adal said, pocketing a couple caps. The girl held up the book. She had to squint, the day’s last light filtering through the shop’s broken windows. She snorted. “That’s never a cat. They musta mutated after the War, the ones I’ve seen are demons right out of Hell.”

“You can’t have seen them, Julie Farkas says they’re extinct,” Max said, wandering over to watch her dig.

“Boy, I ought to whup you for that,” she said, wagging a finger. “I’m old enough to be your ma and walked all over this world; don’t you tell me what I have’n haven’t seen.” He stuck his tongue out, and she returned it. “Saw one in Wyoming, years’n years ago.”

“Tell us, tell us!” Stacy said, bouncing on the counter.

“Oh, it’s a dark and scary tale,” Adal said, shaking her head. “I bet you wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“But we _do!_ ”

“We like your stories,” Max said, pouting.

“Well,” she said, rubbing her chin. She gave a huge sigh. “Okay, I guess.” The two of them cheered, and she raised a finger. “ _But,_ we gotta do it right. You build me a fire to tell it by out there, and I’ll tell it, whole and true.”

They stampeded outside, and she grinned to herself as she continued searching the shop.  
—  
“Alright, you two, I got—” She stopped short. There was a small crowd around the fire in the Freeside alley, a dozen of young voices whispering. She frowned at the two ringleaders, warming their hands. “What’s this?”

“They wanna hear, too,” Max said. “You tell good stories.”

Adal put her hands on her hips, leaning down to glower at all of them. “So. You _all_ wanna hear my story?” Here was a giggle in the back of the group, and the rest nodded. “You _sure?_ It’s a terrible bloody tale, of demons that walk the night, for real and true.”

“Yes!”

“Tell us!”

“I bet it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” She straightened up, indignant. “Not that _bad?_ ” She shook her finger at the boy who had said it. “You settle in, boyo, you ain’t heard nothing.” Stacy caught the bag she threw at her. “Put those on sticks and cook ‘em ‘til they’re brown. Don’t burn yourself, I’ll laugh at you.”

She passed out the marshmallows as Adal stumped over to the side of the fire, sitting slowly with her legs crossed, taking her time to settle herself. “Come _on_ ,” Max said. “We want a story!”

“We want a story!” It turned into a chant from the little crowd. “We want a story! We want a story! We want—”

She held up her hands. “Alright! Alright.” They quieted down. “Now, this is a tale from many years ago, and usually I’d be honest, say it was so long and dark I can’t remember clear.” Adal looked around the fire at the young faces, bright and eager, nibbling at their treat. “But this… You don’t forget a mad night like this, a brush with the Devil himself.

“They had a lot of names before the war, these cats. Puma, panther, catamount. They were large as a man, with a Deathclaw’s nails and a teeth like knives; quiet as a night stalker and more bloodthirsty than a yao guai. People across the Commonwealths say they died out when the bombs fell, had nothing to hunt, haven’t seen them for generations.” She paused, taking in the hush, the firelight playing over their wide eyes. “And in a way, they were right.

“Long ago, I was a younger woman, faster and stronger and with fewer aches than now. But back then, that younger woman had a chip on her shoulder and her head in the clouds. She had just been named hunter by her tribe, who roamed across the continent with no borders or land, and needed but one great deed to earn her gun. And that gun! Oh… for a Walker to earn such a weapon, they were called the fastest, the greatest, the strongest in their tribe, and her heart was set on it. One great deed, a great hunt or service to her folk, and it was hers.

“So as they walked the Wyoming foothills, they stopped to trade with a town. This town was nothing so special, modest and small, who farmed brahmin for trade. But they had a trouble. Their brahmin were being found dead in the night, and killed in horrible ways: Their necks broken, their throats ripped out, some dragged away into the hills. The people heard screams in the night, screeches and wails of a demon in the dark. Something big and fearsome stalked that town, to drag away these carcasses, to create such a terrible sound.

“So that fool girl, that hunter, said, ‘I will hunt your beast, and earn my gun.’”

Adal shook her head and sighed, “So our elder went. ‘Fool girl, on a fool’s errand, bound to die of a broken neck and be dragged into the hills. Do not do this.’ But the townies said, ‘Hunter, brave and strong, bring this creature back dead and we will _give_ you a gun in thanks.’ So, guess what the fool girl did!”

“When is there a cat?” Stacy asked.

“Hush.” The fire had burned lower, and the children had huddled closer together, leaning on one another as they listened. “So she sat by their brahmin in the dark, with her knife and her spear. And sat, and sat. The moon was dark and the stars were bright, and she looked up to count them, waiting and waiting. When her neck grew stiff and her backside grew cold—” she stopped to let them giggle— “the girl looked down. The first thought in her bored, tired head, was that two stars had drifted down from the heavens. But these stars… They were green, bright green, like a glowing one’s flesh, perfectly round—and _close_.”

The alley was dead silent and deeply shadowed now, the only sound the gentle settling of the fire. “The eyes of a demon were staring at her, drifting in the dark with no body to hold them. The hunter sat like she was rooted, blood turned cold, turned to a statue in their gaze. She sweated ice as they glided towards the brahmin, who started to panic as it neared. They bleated and blew, trampling each other as they piled against the fence, trying to escape. They eyes came closer, closer, and _snap!_ A calf was pulled away, one head screaming—and the other held silent by the hellish thing, able to do naught but whimper and moan in pain as it was dragged off into the dark.

“The calf had been near as large as she, and the monster was long gone by the time she moved herself to follow. That girl knew she was a fool, a fool a thousand times over for hunting this thing. But her promise was made to the townies, and her yearning for that gun too great. She took up her spear in her shaking hands and followed the smell of blood, used the starlight to follow the marks in the earth. She could see where the calf was dragged, and tracks wider than her spread hand, the marks of a creature that could eat her whole and have room for more.

“They faded to nothing, the longer she walked. But she refused to be shaken, and searched until the lights of the town were lost, climbing up and down the hills. The ground grew rockier, and harder to track, but she walked on, heart in her mouth. The wind blew up strong, sending grit and dust in her face, and turning her right round in the unfamiliar land. Clouds blew over, hiding the stars and starting to spit rain. 

“Now that girl, that hunter, was ready to turn tail and run, gun be damned. She was lost and cold and alone, and with a demon stalking the hills. And when she tried to find her trail back…” Adal held her breath.

“What happened?” Max whispered.

She leaned in, and all the children did the same. “Those eyes.

“Those evil, glowing eyes were staring back at her from the ridge. She thought at first it sat on a stone, a boulder, to make it so high and large, but no. It was only a shadow, but as big as three of her, the last stars shining off its scabby back, bristles of ugly hair catching the wind. And the monster was staring down at her, hungry. So that scared kid did the only thing she could think of: She ran.

“She ran in a panic down that hill, not caring where it led, just away, away. The cat screamed, a sound of tearing metal and rolling thunder, a sound that would haunt her until she turned old and gray. She froze in fear, and a shadow flew over—and that saved her life. She felt it brush the very top of her head,” she said, running a hand just over her hair, “as the beast missed its mark, landing in front of her. It was so close she could smell its breath, sweet and foul like rotting meat, its pelt so rank it was a creature itself.

“The girl screamed and swung her spear, and it bounced right off the creature! She tried to turn, to run but it leapt again, too close and strong to be fought. She fell trapped under it, dashing her head on the rocks, with no better mind than to throw up her arms and push it away. The monster clamped its jaws on her arm and began to drag her away, like the hopeless brahmin calf.”

“Did it eat her up?” a girl asked, hands to her mouth.

“Oh, it tried, dearling.” Adal held out her arm, and they craned to see. She closed her hand over her bicep, showing how the creature had bitten, leaving deep scars. “It dragged her, dizzy and stupid, high up in the hills. Her skull split, the girl could only fight not to breathe mud and hope it let her go. When it did, she lay there, bloody and sore, ran spattering her face. The monstrous cat left her to lie, but she could still smell rotten meat, the scent of death. She turned her aching head to look.

“To one side, she thought she saw a broken forest, fallen branches reaching skyward. But the branches were white, and strangely shaped. As she stared, she realized no wood grew like that. Bone. She lay in a forest of bodies, the skulls of brahmin and gecko and men half-buried in the dirt, as though reluctant to rest, their ghosts still fighting to walk them away.

“On her other side, she was too frightened to look. There was a soft little sound, wet and sharp, _snikt, snikt, snikt._ But knowing she may already be dead, she turned, slow, slow, faking death still.

“The black, gaping maw of a cave stared back at her, a portal to Hell. Inside it drifted the eyes of the monster, staring at her, not fooled by her act, but knowing she dared not run. Below it… below it, the corpse of the brahmin calf wriggled and jerked, dead, but moving yet. As she watched, frozen stiff in mortal terror, another creature stirred behind it.

“The girl knew she had gone too far. She had courted spirits, hunted them when she had no right, and left the real world entire. She tried to crawl away, hands scraping the stone and mud and bone. And the creature saw.

“One set of glowing eyes. Two. Three. Three heads it had, pushing aside the calf, hissing and crooning as it drew near. The demon thing crawled towards her, and she tried to stand and scramble away, reaching for her knife as her only weapon left. But the first creature, the cat, did not wish this. It lunged for her again, those horrible eyes all she could see. And in a flash of terror, of desperation, she raised the knife and lunged right back.

“It _screamed!_ The creature screamed with a voice of the legions of Hell, the knife plunging through a glowing eye up to the hilt. She pulled it free to slash at its face, its throat, and took to her heels. Head-struck and lost, she could only follow the slope of the land, knowing the town and her tribe were somewhere downhill. She ran and ran, until her legs fell limp and numb, packing mud on her arm to stop it bleeding. She lay in the cold night, waiting for the beast to find her again, for death to come.

“She must have slept, for her to wake in the early dawn. Her tribe and the townies had come out to search for her, and she cried out from where she lay. They dragged her from the ditch she had fallen in, carrying her back to town to mend her wounds.

“As they did, the Elder of her band looked to her, his old, wise eyes seeing right through. He did not speak, did not call her fool again. They both knew it to be true.

“But the townies clamored for news, for what she had seen. She told her story then, raving and ill, and they looked on in fear on hearing of a demon stalking their town. ‘But is it dead?’ their headman asked. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing can kill such a creature. Run, run far away.’

“For when they say that cats are dead, wiped out in the War, they are not fully wrong. They remain as evil spirits, demons haunting the wild places, guarding the gates of Hell.”

Adal sat back. The fire had burned down to embers, and she reached out to stir it with a stick. The children whispered and murmured, watching her in awe. “Did it really happen?” Max asked.

“Every word,” she said, solemn.

“But ghosts don’t…”

She wagged a finger at Stacy. “I got the scars to prove it, kiddo. World’s bigger and stranger than anything you’ve ever seen.”

“Are there ghosts around Vegas?”

They hushed again, waiting for an answer. “Well.” She leaned close again. “Some say there are.” There was a little collective ‘oooh,’ from them, and she clapped her hands together. “Welp! This was fun, kids, but it’s late, n’I gotta…”

They caught her hands and tugged at her boots as she stood, clamoring. “More! One more, pleeease?” Stacy said, giving her big sad eyes.

“More?” She scowled at them, trying not to grin. “You’re not all just scared to go home in the dark?” There was a chorus of ‘no!’ and pleas to go on, and she sat gracelessly. “Oh, fine, I suppose.” She looked around at them all, gathering close, excited. “I heard there’s one room in the Ultra-Luxe they’ll never rent out, not after all the strange stories its guests told…”


End file.
